


Rhinestone Eyes

by GlowRock



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Other, Phase Five (Gorillaz), Phase Four (Gorillaz), Phase One (Gorillaz), Phase Three (Gorillaz), Phase Two (Gorillaz), Pre-Gorillaz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 13:17:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18389198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlowRock/pseuds/GlowRock
Summary: Gorillaz is a band full of very damaged people. This, however, doesn't mean that they can never heal. It only means that it will be very, very hard. Other things will probably get hard as well, which is why you're here reading anyway, probably. The fifth is being plead.Follow this story as we discover the many, many ways that the Gorillaz bandmates can, as you say...Feel Good™.





	Rhinestone Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Please take care reading this if you are triggered by viol*nce, ab*se, or man*pulation, both physical and verbal. These heavy topics are not easy to write, nor are they enjoyable. The dynamics surrounding Murdoc Niccals (specifically, as he has been the ab*sed and the ab*ser on multiple circumstance) and all other characters in the Gorillaz lore are complicated and the relationships can be very messy. Most, if not all, of the characters are traumatized in one way or another.  
> Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett, as well as all other contributors, know what they're doing and write their characters well, and I want to honor their stories with this fanfiction, but I will never, ever, condone or support ab*se in any form. It is wrong, even if it's fictional characters who are preforming it.
> 
> Important:  
> If you are currently experiencing any form of ab*se, please do not hesitate to get help. Warriors like you are not cowards for asking for help. It is very brave to get out of any ab*sive situation, and no one should ever treat another human with such cruelty. Your trauma is valid, and you deserve to be treated better.  
> Emotional Abuse Hotline: https://www.crisistextline.org/emotional?gclid=CjwKCAjwv6blBRBzEiwAihbM-TQsl9e4AUZ-lquMtQQaFTtoViIXpkfRZ7qr7-6i7Zp6qDVOKZQ96xoCI9IQAvD_BwE  
> Domestic Abuse Hotline: https://www.thehotline.org/help/
> 
> If you wish to continue reading, thank you. I appreciate your diligence and your interest, and will do my best to make a story worth reading.  
> Still don't know who I'm gonna ship, though. I guess we'll both figure that out as the story progresses, huh?

Murdoc felt he rarely was one to get “surprised.” His feelings often consisted mainly of lust, loathing, hatred, and utter debauchery, and it didn’t matter in the slightest. He was still able to write music, play El Diablo, sing, and be inspired. His fans still loved him, he could still get laid… what was the problem with being a terrible human(?) being? He didn’t know, but… he felt he was about to find out as he stared at the glossy void that were 2D’s eyes. 

Usually he didn’t care what 2D was feeling, not at all. Why was he beginning to, after all these years…?

Haha, just kidding.   
Only in that dented idiot’s DREAMS would THAT ever happen.

“I fought… well I mean… I thhhfought and I fought… to try and be yah friend…”

Stewart wiped his tear stained sleeve across his eyes, trying to stunt the flood that had broken out of his dam of pent up feelings. This was normal… Murdoc shrugged internally. He hadn’t really ever seen 2D get this upset, or at least, this unsettled over something so seemingly worthless. Friendship? Please. What a joke. A sorry excuse to trust someone, and then use them and throw them aside. He’d tried to teach 2D that lesson several times, just like his ol’ Pop had him. It still was a bit strange that Stewart hadn’t left him behind after so long. There was a part of Murdoc that cared that 2D stayed. Probably, supposedly. That part of him was constantly beaten down by his determination to never get used again, if it existed.

Heck if he knew.  
Hell if he cared.

“Stew-pot, shuddap,” Murdoc swung his arm, aiming for 2D’s left temple. There was a flash of white, an indecent growl, and Murdoc felt his fist connect… but not with the hard bone of Stewart’s cheek. No, this time, it connected with the palm of his front man’s hand. And it seemed that 2D wasn't about to let go, nope, not even a little. How more annoying could this walking vegetable get?

“You STEWpid two dented motherfucker-!”

Murdoc swung his glare towards 2D, and saw that the bloke had actually caught him, and was holding his fist firmly in his grasp.

“Wh- what are ye doin’ there? Leggo o’ me hand!”

“You fink you cahn just get away wid all dis? With hittin’ me, both with cars and fists, with Paula, with Rachel, with fookin’ all dis? Ya hit me across the face with a bloody sneaker, ya did! Before that, you bloody ruined my fookin’ eyes!!! You never listen to me, or Russ, or Noodle! You’re a fookin’ menace to the band and a demonic shit of a person, but I wouldn't expect any less of someone who worships the fuckin' DEVIL!!!”

Murdoc tried to pull his arm away. He really did. But Stewart wasn’t about to budge. Murdoc raised his other arm, bringing it down on 2D’s arm with a sickening thud. Huffing with his maniacal laughter, he looked up, and his crooked smile went silent. It didn’t do anything… Stewart still had Murdoc’s fist caught, and he was gripping it tighter, tighter, until-

“OWCH lad! Let off!!!”   
Murdoc struggled as Stewart’s fist closed slowly around his own, and for once, Murdoc felt a shred of fear tug at his heart. It was all beginning to catch up with him, all the pain he’d put Stewart through. As his knuckles began to pop, memories flashed before him. The heist gone wrong, the dents he’d given Stewart from driving right into him or crashing in an accident… twice. The lustful intimacy he had shared with Paula the night before she and 2D had split. The pain of having his nose done in by Russel. That one time Noodle had almost died because he was an idiot...

Murdoc couldn’t help but realize that all these memories began to merge with older, tired and buried ones. His ol’ Pop forcing him to dance and sing like Pinocchio in a humiliating display… the deal with the devil… the neglect he’d suffered… being chased by and chasing The Boogeyman...

Fuck...

Remembering all that hurt so much more than his now broken hand, but his broken hand still hurt like HELL ON FIRE.   
It hurt enough to remind him that he.  
Didn’t.  
CARE.  
About all that past.  
SHIT.

“2D, let go! LET OFF ME YA BLOODY PRICK!!!” 

Murdoc writhed and pulled away from Stewart, his hand twitching in pain as his front man finally let go and dropped it. Stepping back and falling onto the couch, Murdoc brought his sore hand up to his mouth and sucked on it, trying to make the throbbing pain go away. As the pain began to dull by microscopic increments, he looked up towards his assailant, who was smiling a vengeful grin and crossing his arms, his eyes glowing white with mischief and malice… wait… white? Since when had Stew's dents been WHITE? What the fuck...?

“What the FUCK is wrong with you! You’ve broken my hand!!! My GOOD HAND! How am I supposed to play now? What are you fucking going to do about that now, ya prick?!”

“I fink that should teach you to be more considerate of other people, shouldn’t it?!”

“Just one moment! I can hurt you, but that doesn’t mean you can hurt me!”

Murdoc tried pointing at 2D as he shouted, but forgot his hand was broken. Wincing, he grabbed his hand and pulled it to his chest, grimacing as it slowly purpled and blued with the bruises and broken bones under his skin. It was hard to focus on anything else, but of course, 2D didn't care, watching as Murdoc clenched his hand at the wrist, sweating from the pain he caused.

Stewart walked over to where Murdoc was sitting and gingerly took his broken hand in his own.

“Well, I fink I just did hurt you, didn’t I? Looks like you’re wrong about what you just said,” He smiled apathetically as he reached out and took Murdoc’s broken hand, folding down four fingers as Murdoc hissed and grunted in disdain. There wasn’t much Murdoc could do; he was frozen in indignant fear, but hid it masterfully in his prideful glare as 2D flipped him the bird. Murdoc let out a sickly chuckle as he realized 2D had flipped him off with his own broken hand, no less. Even though it hurt, he had to admit he was feeling curious about this weird alter ego his ol’ bandmate had been sporting. If 2D decided to go rogue again, he had to be ready. He shot his good hand out, grabbing Stewart’s tousled blue hair, and roughly tugged his head back.

“What the fuck happened to your eyes, Stewboy?”

At that question, like a tired sigh, 2D’s eye’s faded from white to grey, and then to black again. 

When his eyes were back to normal, it was like Murdoc was seeing an entirely different person, because he was.   
Stew-pot was himself again, a blank and sheepish expression overpowering his face, as if he couldn't even remember how he got there.

Murdoc hated it. He pushed 2D’s hands away and shoved him onto the table, pressing him down harshly and holding both his arms above his head with the only good hand 2D had left him.

There it was, the expression was even more clear now. It felt like home.   
By home, Murdoc meant the gross gut feeling that he always felt, the one he was most comfortable with, his self hatred and his cruelty.   
It gnawed at his heart like a thousand starving rats as he stared into the face of the man he had decided to victimize and harm so long ago.

Home is where the heart is, he thought as he shrugged.

2D’s face was submissive, frightened, and confused, just how Murdoc both like and hated it.   
Strange though, he didn’t mind the other side of this guy. It took serious guts to break Murdoc’s playing hand.   
Murdoc wondered if, somehow, he could get the other Stew to come out to play again, see who the hell had possessed his front man. 

He’d have to trick Noodle or Russel into playing backup.

“What do yeh fink you’re doing?!?” Stewart cried out as he twisted and kicked, trying to find any means of escape as he struggled against the weight of Murdoc’s lean form.

“Muds! Muds, get off of me-!”

Murdoc leaned in close, not caring that his breath smelled like rotten oranges and eggs, and lifted his limp hand so that 2D could see it clearly.   
Stewart’s face went blank and his body went rigid as he stared at his own handiwork.   
Murdoc, beside himself with the hilarious irony of the situation, didn’t move from where he was sitting, but allowed his perverse and dangerous smile to curl across his lips.

“Who tah fuck dih that to yew?! We got a gig tomorrah and that’s the worst break I’ve evah seen! How tah fuck are yew even gonn play the bass? We gots tah getchu to a hospital-!”

“I’m not gonna play tomorrow, you bloody fucking idiot. Who do you think did this? Noodle and Russell are out tonight getting ready for the concert, it’s just you an’ me.”

Murdoc waited as he stared 2D straightly in the face, his annoyance growing steadily as he realized that this little mouse of a man didn’t even have the brains to figure out his part in this travesty.   
Stewart huffed under the sheer weight of his abuser, his breathing troubled from the pressure of Murdoc’s body.

Murdoc grunted as he hefted himself up off of 2D and brushed the dust from their dirty apartment floor off his jeans.   
He went back to the couch and sprawled himself out, grunting and humming a few lyrics to a song he had yet to birth.

“Muds, are yew alright? Whaddya mean… I could’na done tha-”

“Well, now that chu mention it, yeah, I’m alright! Except you broke my bloody hand and can’t even seem to fuckin’ remember.”

“Wait, I broke… I broke your playin’ hand? Of course I di’n’t do anyfink of the sort!!!”

“Would I lie about that?”

“Given your track record, yeah, I’m sure you fookin’ would!”

Murdoc guffawed and plucked his guitar from behind the couch, giving the strings a few gentle tugs and wincing as he realized how bad the break was.   
He couldn’t feel his pointer finger, nor could he feel his thumb. He hated to say it, because it left him a tad vulnerable, but…

“We gots to get to a fucking hospital, Stew-pot. An’ YOU’RE drivin’.”  
-

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think, but please be kind. Thank you for reaching the end of this chapter! ♥


End file.
